His Melody
by FoenFyre
Summary: Luke thinks of his worth and place in the world during a midnight vigil, but one being is intent on proving him wrong the best way it knows how. Lukear mentions.


**_Disclaimer: _**I do not own Tales of the Abyss or any of its characters.

**_Spoilers: If you are not past Akzeriuth._**

**_Summary:_** _Luke thinks of his worth and place in the world during a midnight vigil, but one being is intent on proving him wrong the best way it knows how. Lukear mentions._

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His Melody

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It's in the dark of the night that it catches his attention. Fleeting, and worn as it is—it stands out of the ritual murmurings of his mind.

It's all too often that he feels it. A far of melody, thrumming in his bones, in his heart, and any other part of him that buzzes with sentient thought not necessarily always his own. It's almost a constant reminder, pushing him forward when his thoughts turn to the prevalent unpleasant sides of his dilemma. Save the world, stop the one man he had respected above all others, and then, hopefully, quietly fade out of existence.

The first part troubles him the most; the second not so much anymore, and the last has become a thought of assurance. The world would not have to suffer an idiot such as he for any longer than was necessary. And even now, he isn't so sure about how necessary he is, if not for a back up (as was the case to bring him into being), if something were to happen to Asch before which time Lorelei was to be expelled, forcibly, from Van.

It's as light as Tear's fonic hymn at times, and yet much, much deeper. Her songs are of hope, protection and of healing, but this—it is above all else something greater, what it is, he cannot say. When he closes his eyes and reaches out for the power that is always just out of reach, the power that he knows can break down and rearrange the world as he knows it, he can feel it. Smiling or frowning, watching bemusedly or with concern depending on what it believes is right for any unseen situation—It's always there. It doesn't have a face, of that he is sure, but he knows with the basic instinct that defines him as a living, breathing thing—no matter how false or worthless his life is—that it is _alive._ Not in the sense that he or Mieu is, but living and thinking all the same.

Nightmares had troubled him for weeks after Akzeriuth. People screaming, dying, reaching out in a mass of tangled limbs while calling out to him to save them. _Save them_, even though it was he who had _condemned_ them to death. He runs around frightened, dodging mutilated arms and trying to ignore raspy breaths so close to death that he feels faint hearing them. He tries—tries so very hard to help the little child out on his own. Dwarfed by the large body of a man who could have been attempting to save the child in life, but is now burdening him in death. And he watches him sink into the oblivion of the Qlipoth, crying tears that he himself is mirroring as behind him his friends walk away one by one.

All that who are left are Guy, who soon walks away without a second glance, and Tear—beautiful Tear who he knows he cares about for so, so much, who walk away with one final cold glare. And he is all alone—very alone, and he can't help but fall. Darkness swallows him, and he gives no fight. '_Death_' he calls, '_take me as you have taken them, I do not deserve this life._' the stillness grows, and he closes his eyes, hoping that perhaps he can finally end. The mistakes, the hurt, and the horror can finally end with his conclusion.

But that is not so.

'_No_' a thought passes through this quiet and into his own tumble of thoughts. It is pleading and commanding; so he opens those green eyes he is so praised for and looks. He looks so intently until white dots appear in the blackness, but nothing is there. He is seized with such a curiosity, such a _need _to find the being who would find meaning in his life and so he wrenches away from the tenuous tendrils and walks. He walks step by step, not going anywhere, but moving. Closer comes the thought and its maker, and then he is gone. He is gone from the darkness and in a loving embrace.

He wonders if this is what a child feels in the womb, a protective cocoon that promises greater things with patience and he cries again. Never has he been in one, being the replica that he is, never has he thought he has deserved it, but this feels like he does—and then he is released, placed down onto a flat surface that he knows can't be there, but is. He shivers, frightened that he has been left to the blackness that he _wanted_ to consume him, but it does not. The place he is is warm and safe, and glows with a golden light. He thinks he knows, but doesn't voice what he believes is happening in fear of losing the safe and warm feeling—and the feeling smiles.

He smiles back, delighted, happy that he has done something to make someone else happy, and the feeling laughs. The laughs are so powerful, much more filled with emotion than beloved Mystearica—and he suspects Yulia Jue as well—can manage. It swoops into him, removing the fear and the sadness, wiping away the images of rejection that it assures him would never happen, and then lifts him again. A sphere appears, round and beautiful, and he finds himself looking at Auldrant in its full glory.

A woman has appeared beside him, elegant and welcoming all the same. Her hair is pale violet, but her eyes are the real distinction that sets her apart from most others in his memory. Blue eyes so deep that for a moment he forgets he is above his planet and believes he is standing beside Tear in the field, sharing a conversation after battle without the jeering of Anise or the quips of Jade to put any discomfort between them. She watches the planet so intently and with such care that Tear appears in her place with a newly bought staff in hand, preparing for battle. He sighs.

She understands, he feels, and with a nod and sparkle of golden light she disappears, leaving him to look at the ethereal image before him. He wonders then why he hasn't fought harder to protect such beauty. The golden light flashes again, and he is back in the nothingness, except with more than himself as an occupant. Half-familiar faces swoop by, giving him a nod or wink, very few are disgruntled (and if so its in their nature) and mutter answers to his unspoken apologies as they pass by in a stream of color.

'_It's alright child.'_

'_I didn't have much time left anyway.'_

'_As long as you save that world, we're even.' _

'_I got friends who're still living, so do your best!'_

'_You die, and we'll make you regret dying kid!'_

'_Make us proud boy.'_

And he cries, as the light envelopes him with a soothing melody and calming embrace as it lowers him back into his mind and into his body. A flash of light and it too is gone.

He awakens to a crackling fire, and to each of his treasured companions in the midst of sleep. Jade, he sees, has finally taken off his glasses, and Guy has, as expected, scooted further away from the group of females that have clustered together for warmth and for comfort. The fire flashes for a second, just as he is finally awakening his bewildered mind, a color he is far too familiar with, before it fades and disappears into the others hues of orange, red, and yellow.

He feels moisture on his face and understands.

_Not now_. Not _soon_. Not in _any foreseeable future_ will he fail. The melody is of life and love, and he will do all he can to preserve it.

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A/N- I just randomly came up with this when I was reflecting on how low-self esteemish Luke can get. I really like how I made Lorelei act in this fic, and it seemed a bit of a throwback to the "Alone" narrative poem thing that I made a while back. I guess I kind of mixed in my own personal beliefs into it as well with how Lorelei was represented, and how he kinda represents more than just music, but...I dunno. Can't really think of anything else to write about it, but oh well...; 


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